Food: Starting with Wonton Noodles

Chaoshan people are certainly not some kind of monster.

But Chaoshan people are naturally inclined to stick together, and when they fight, they are truly fearless.

In the past, it was rare for people in the restaurant business not to get into fights.

Both Qi Shijie and Liang Jinhong come from families of kitchen workers, so they are naturally familiar with this kind of thing.

So Liang Jinhong's words immediately sobered Qi Shijie up considerably.

Although he was drunk, he still had a sense of propriety. First of all, he smashed the street vendor's cart, not the person.

Although he was arrogant, he was actually quite shrewd and never laid a hand on anyone.

In a situation like tonight, if it were someone from another place, he could handle whatever came next, whether it was a fight or financial losses.

Moreover, it's a fact that Sun Zhigang's cooking today was done incorrectly in terms of heat and taste, and no one can say anything about it, no matter who comes.

That's why he dared to be so arrogant.

But the other side is from Chaoshan. You see there are two people on the other side now, but who knows how many more people they might have if a fight really breaks out.

If one of the people who comes out is particularly ruthless, wouldn't I suffer an even greater loss?

I'm too delicate to take this risk.

As a third-rate playboy from a small, third-tier city, the ability to assess situations and act accordingly is an essential skill.

He had only just vented his anger, and forcing him to hold it back would only make him feel worse.

He looked at the still-burning stove on Sun Zhigang's food cart and suddenly said, "Don't say I'm bullying you, an outsider. Aren't you selling fried noodles? I'll make some too. If you can't make it as good as mine, I'll take your cart..."

Before he could even utter the word "smash," he saw Yang Jingda, whose eyes were blazing with fury, and then he wondered how many Chaoshan people were still working at this kind of night market.

If Yang Jingda were to raise his arm and call out, three hundred Chaoshan knife-wielding thugs would appear, and I wouldn't be able to leave here tonight.

He felt a pang of guilt and changed his words, saying, "Just throw away all the rest of your noodles and vegetables. If yours tastes better than mine, then I won't make you pay me back; I'll apologize."

As he spoke, he felt as if he had transformed into a peerless master from Jin Yong's world.

Simply by using the opponent's preferred martial arts, one can easily defeat them with a few words.

He couldn't help but feel smug, thinking that the solution he had come up with on a whim was both satisfying and impressive.

Thinking of this, he relaxed and started flirting with Xiao Mengdie again: "BB, you wait and see how I use his ingredients to make stir-fried beef noodles, slap him in the face, and make him throw away all the garbage he made."

"Hey handsome guy who makes fried noodles, you should just admit defeat and apologize to Young Master Jie. He's the heir of Fengminglou, and Fengminglou's stir-fried beef noodles are the best in G City. You have no chance of winning, so there's no need to continue the competition and humiliate yourself."

At this moment, the apprentice who was driving for Qi Shijie also got out of the car and smiled as he advised Sun Zhigang.

Yang Jingda scoffed, "What era are we living in? 'Crown Prince'? I'd be the Emperor! He's barely grown his hair yet, and he really thinks he can cook?"

Qi Shijie, who was getting more and more pleased with himself, stopped arguing with Yang Jingda. He said to the apprentices who had come with him, "Hey, we should keep a low profile and not look down on him. There are masters among the common people too."

He laughed nonchalantly, "Don't say I didn't give you a chance. How about this, if someone cooks for you tonight and it tastes better than mine, I'll apologize."

"But," he said, his gaze sharpening, "if you still lose, not only will you have to throw all your noodles and vegetables into the garbage can, but no matter where you set up your stall in the future, you have to turn around and leave whenever you see me."

In the end, Qi Shijie only regretted that he didn't have a folding fan in his hand, otherwise he could have learned from the heroes in Jin Yong's novels and waved a folding fan.

The way people put on airs these days isn't as polished anymore; it lacks a bit of the nonchalance and unrestrained spirit.

Sun Zhigang paused for a moment, then said, "Okay."

He wasn't a coward to begin with, but firstly, he was indeed in the wrong, and secondly, Qi Shijie was very shrewd and didn't initiate the fight.

He couldn't retaliate.

Qi Shijie was now swaggering around in front of him like a peacock, and he was furious.

I'd like to see how you make stir-fried beef noodles.

Seeing that Sun Zhigang agreed, Qi Shijie walked arrogantly to Sun Zhigang's fried noodle cart, looked at Yang Jingda and said, "What are you looking at? Move aside, didn't you hear what your brother said?"

Yang Jingda had no choice but to angrily give up his seat.

Qi Shijie began to pretend to rummage through the materials, picking them up and taking them out as if preparing them.

However, as he prepared, he kept shaking his head, occasionally blurting out, "This soy sauce is too bad, it's hard to make do with it." "That rice noodle sheet is too thick, it's not made from pure milled rice, what a failure."

Enraged, Yang Jingda paced back and forth. If Sun Zhigang hadn't been there, he would have really gone up and started hitting him.

Leung Kam-hung, on the other hand, was happy to watch the show.

Although he also felt that his card-playing and drinking buddy had gone too far tonight.

But now that he can openly delay going home, he's happy to have some free time.

Ideally, Qi Shijie could cook this stir-fried beef noodles for an hour or two, thus making the evening more convenient, and he wouldn't have to go back to face his father's stern face and be forced to smell the cooking fumes in the kitchen.

As I thought about it, the question inevitably slipped out: "Does stir-fried beef noodles take an hour to cook?"

"Stir-fried beef noodles can't be cooked for that long."

The sudden sound startled Liang Jinhong.

He then realized that, at some point, a man who was about 1.8 meters tall and looked to be only in his twenties or thirties had appeared.

But a handsome man with a mature and composed demeanor was also standing next to him, watching the spectacle.

He retorted somewhat indignantly, "Why not? Beef needs to be marinated, right? Marinating takes at least half an hour. Bean sprouts need to be picked, right? Picking takes at least ten minutes. You know, my dad is a chef too, of course he can cook for an hour."

Zhou Yu did not refute his nonsensical answer, but instead laughed and said, "Then do you know where stir-fried beef noodles came from?"

Liang Jinhong was taken aback: "How did it come about? Was it cooked?"

Zhou Yu: "Actually, there used to be only stir-fried rice noodles, there was no such thing as dry or wet. Because the heat was insufficient back then, the only way to make 'wet stir-fried rice noodles' was to use starch to thicken the sauce. It's quite interesting, the development back then is somewhat similar to your friend's tonight."

Leung Kam-hung originally wanted to refute Zhou Yu: "How do you know that there used to be only stir-fried rice noodles, without the distinction between dry and wet? My family has always had this tradition."

But hearing Zhou Yu's sudden change of topic piqued his curiosity, and instead of refuting him, he asked, "What similarities?"

Do you know what a "vegetable fighting" is?

"A cooking contest?" Leung Kam-hung couldn't help but laugh. "You can start a cooking contest? It sounds as childish as kids playing in the mud."

Zhou Yu smiled and said, "Isn't your friend having a cooking contest right now? Do you think it's like children playing in the mud?"

Good heavens, Liang Jinhong never expected Zhou Yu to be waiting for him here.